


No. 10: Find a Hobby to Do Together

by CallipygianGoldfish



Series: 101 Ways to Say I Love You [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 101 Ways to Say I Love You, Domestic Fluff, Ducklings - Freeform, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallipygianGoldfish/pseuds/CallipygianGoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: Clint has a habit of rescuing abandoned babies. It just never occurred to him how easily they could lose six small, rather fluffy ducklings in an apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No. 10: Find a Hobby to Do Together

**Author's Note:**

> This was again inspired by a leaflet I was given at college, "101 Ways to Say I Love You Without Having Sex", but also by the pure sweetness of my own ducklings! They have a severe cuteness factor...

“No.”

“C’mon Phil, please?” 

“I’m not doing it.”

“For mee?” Clint whined, holding a rather damp cardboard box in his arms and dramatically pouting at Phil, who glared back. 

“No. What on earth would Lucky do if his home was invaded by soggy ducklings?” Phil asked.

“Probably adopt them as his makeshift babies. I’m sure he wouldn’t eat them. Like, 14% sure. And anyway, it’s just for one day. While they dry out? Hey, a while back you did say we needed a hobby to do together.” Clint suggested slyly as Phil snorted.

“Pff, but I was thinking more along the lines of going to the cinema more often, not this.”

“Well, this is less boring. Anyway, it’s just for one day. While they dry out? Some nasty men left you in the rain, didn’t they? Poor darlings...” Clint trailed off, looking out under his eyelashes at Phil, who surrendered to the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. But they are your responsibility, hear me?” Clint crooned at the box in joy.

“Yes, yes you are, aren’t you? Let’s go find you something to eat hmm?” He paused. “Hey, Phil? What do ducklings eat?”

_Three days later..._

A soft chirping noise penetrated Phil’s subconscious and proceeded to irritate his brain. Somehow the message got through that the cheeping things weren’t a threat, but more an annoyance, like the cold foot that was currently stuck out from the sheets. The high pitched noise continued, as he burrowed deeper under a pillow and a warm arm. 

“Mmfph.” He said eloquently, poking at the arm.

“Huh?” Clint turned over and stared at him.

“Mmfph.” Phil said again but louder, then mumbled something into the mattress.

“Ah, right.” Clint mused. “Very astute of you.” Even if it was still dark outside, Clint seemed far too awake for Phil’s liking, even if his hair told a different story. The background noise was turning more persistent.

“Ink. ’lint. Clint. Feed your mmphing ducks.”

“They’re your ducks too, you know.”

“Well, I’m delegating the lovely task.” He stopped to yank back the covers from the cocoon on the other side of the bed, “To you.” he finished.

“Thanks dear.” Clint snarked back at him. Rubbing his eyes, Phil squinted at the cardboard box sat next to the radiator. A bolt of fear shot through him as he suddenly sat up and grabbed his glasses.

“Clint.” He said urgently. “Wake up.”

“All right, all right, I’m getting there.” Clint groaned and tried to extract himself from the sheets.

“No, wake up now.” The sleepiness had completely gone from Phil’s voice, which prompted Clint to look up in worry. 

“What is it?” He said quietly and edged his hand towards the knife he kept for quick access in the bed frame.

“We may have a bit of a problem when it comes to feeding ducks.” Phil gestured to the radiator. 

“They’re gone.” The box lay on its side, newspaper and crumbs strewn on the floor. 

“Ah. We don’t seem have anything to feed?” Clint said. “So we just need to find them, simple! Can’t be that hard right? I mean, they’re flightless so that excludes-hey look!” Dangling his head off the side of the bed, Clint could see two vague shapes huddled around somebody’s abandoned sock. They were frantically cheeping, and Clint winced at the noise as he coaxed them out. “Found some!”

“Good. Keep looking.” Phil said grimly. 

“Don’t worry boss, I’m sure they haven’t gone far.” Clint scooped the pair up and put them gently into the box. 

“Famous last words.” Phil grumbled then stilled for a moment. “Please tell me you closed the bedroom door last night.” Phil squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to wake up again, but this time with a box full of ducks. This wasn’t the worst he’s ever woken up to, but this certainly didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.

“Um...” Clint’s gaze shifted sideways for a second. “No?” The door was ajar half a foot, with plenty of room for an enthusiastic duckling. Groaning, Phil grabbed the box and headed towards the door.

“Let’s go. We have four more babies to find.”

Three hours later they’d managed to successfully find all six ducklings, in varying places in the apartment. One was discovered behind the filing cabinet, but made a swift bid for freedom when Clint approached. This prompted a quick manhunt when it decided it wanted to stay feral, but fortunately it was apprehended when it stopped for a quick nibble at Clint’s shoelaces.  
Lucky was curled passively around another two, only raising his head when Phil approached. 

“So guys, where’s the last fugitive then, hmm?” This last part was directed at the two balls of feathers which were currently nuzzled contentedly into Lucky’s stomach before Phil gently lifted them away. How the final duckling managed to end up in the sink was a mystery to everyone. Including the duckling. 

“Maybe it stood on the other’s shoulders?” Clint wondered as they watched it scooting around near the plug. “We should be training them! Imagine it, Barton’s Flying Circus, but with actual flying things!” 

“Mmm, yes I could imagine that. Along with roast duck and apple sauce, maybe?” Phil implied sweetly as he plopped the duck in the box next to the pair with the sock. The sock in question was also there, after being unanimously voted part of the family. 

“Aww Phil, you love them really.” Phil smiled softly at the sight of Clint Barton, feared assassin and Avenger Extraordinaire, holding a duckling in each hand and tucking them gently into the front of his shirt.

“Yes. I suppose I do.” Plus, they’d probably taste terrible.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the author's happiness :3  
> Come visit me on tumblr? My username is exactly the same, callipygiangoldfish.tumblr.com


End file.
